“No, I don’t think so,” Mika said wisely. “Foxes dig things up in the woods, you know. It’s a terrible place to hide a corpse.”

Jamie gave her a wry look. “Yes, that’s exactly what Terracotta said, too.”

They opened a bottle of mulled wine, demolished a lemon cheesecake for dinner, and played a drinking game that involved taking a swig out of the wine bottle every time someone next door shouted “Jesus fucking Christ, Granddad!”

By the time the night quieted down at last, they were tipsy and Mika was feeling just a bit braver, and Circe had wisely taken herself off to the kitchen for the night.

“I’m going to bed,” Mika said, pausing at the bottom of the stairs. “You want to come?”

“Fuck, yes.”

He kissed the back of her neck halfway up the stairs and caught her as she stumbled. She turned, pressing her mouth to his, and for a few minutes, it looked like they wouldn’t even get all the way upstairs.

But they did. Jamie pressed one hand into the door by her head, the other tracing her kiss-swollen mouth with his thumb. She bit his thumb, then licked it. He groaned. She reached up, playing with the edge of his rolled-up sleeves, tracing a finger down the muscles in his forearm.

“Forearms are my ruin,” she said dreamily.

He kissed her brow. “You’re my ruin.”

“If you keep saying things like that, we won’t make it to the bed.”

“I promise to nobly bear that sacrifice.”

She laughed and darted under his arm. He pivoted, catching her around her waist, and pressed the length of her back against him. He used his other hand to sweep her hair over her shoulder, the soft, silky strands slipping through his fingers, and then he lowered his head to the back of her bare neck.

They made it as far as the rug on the floor. She pushed him down on his back and sat astride him, her hair curling over one shoulder as she kissed him. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt and she rocked against him, needing the friction. His hands clenched on her hips to hold her in place. He broke the kiss and dropped his head back, his breathing ragged.

Mika straightened to pull her dress over her head. She didn’t have a bra on. His body jerked and he flipped them, getting her beneath him while he shrugged off his unbuttoned shirt. A groan slipped between his teeth as he hovered over her for a moment, unmoving, just gazing in wonder at every inch of golden, sweat-salty skin she’d uncovered.

She let him look until she grew impatient and bit softly at his mouth. He made a low sound, partly a moan and partly a laugh. “Sorry.”

“I don’t think you are,” she whispered against his mouth.